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This is a question Easiest Job Ever

Dazbrilliantwhites says he spent five years working at an airport where he spent his days "racing down multi-storey car parks in wheelchairs and then using the lift to go back to the top". Tell us about your best and easiest jobs. Students: Make something up.

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 12:14)
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I worked in a bookshop.
It wasn't the easiest job I've ever done, but it was by far the best. I got to meet all sorts of interesting people, and I used them mercilessly for my own education. Although I had to cope with a few morons, they were few and far between. Most of my customers were pretty smart (and probably smarter than me); it's a bit difficult to be thick and literate.

I'd always keep a mental note of people's orders and purchases, and if anything interesting crossed my path I'd order or put aside a second copy for me. I used the staff discount so much it's a wonder my employer didn't just pay me in books.

I'd still be there now if the company hadn't been taken over by a bunch of idiots who felt that centralised purchasing without consideration for local tastes would be a brilliant idea to improve sales (they seemed surprised that Nigel Tranter, an obscure Scottish author who might sell a couple of copies at best in Edinburgh, didn't sell 96 copies in Croydon, but a mere six copies of Mary Jane Staples' latest Sarf Lahndahn oeuvre sold out in three minutes), while at the same time foisting the blame for any poor sales onto the local managers. Heaven forbid that anyone in Head Office might ever make a poor decision. I wasn't too surprised when the company went bust a couple of years after I quit.

Still, later piss-poor management aside, the bookshop was a great place to work. One day I'll have one of my own...
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 18:20, 2 replies)
Headline writer for the Daily Express.
It was quite difficult at first, but in the end I developed a macro as I was basically pig-lazy.

It came to a head when it generated the headline "Princess Di violated by gypsy migrants".
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 18:10, 3 replies)
Playing drums for a White Stripes tribute band

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 18:01, 2 replies)
Working at the Movie Theater when I was 17.
I was a doorman and it was the most lackadasial job imaginable. I didn't do anything at all. I didn't even wear my uniform the right way.

Little did I know the manager, who wasn't saying anything about my insubordinance, was keeping a book of everything I did wrong. Then I got fired and that was the end of that 5.50 an hour payoff.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:55, 2 replies)
Video shop
Watch films, very occasionaly serve a customer (i.e reach a few feet behind me for the relevant video, type in a few details on the computer and open the till)..... Watch films, trade a video for a pizza with the takeaway next door, eat popcorn, drink cola, watch a film, smoke marajuana in the back room, drink more pop, watch another film. Get paid.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:47, 3 replies)
I was hired as a geologist for a gold mine in the west australian desert, my second one fresh out of uni
more money than I deserved. when I started, I genuinely feared, "fuck, this might be a job where I may have to do some work for a change". But three events conspired so I didn't.

First off the bat, a passing cyclone flooded a river for 13 weeks, blocking the only access to the mine and with it the supply of diesel. This stopped all but essential work, and eventually they grew tired of us boozing all day and flew us home for the last 6 weeks on full pay.

After this they brought in 4 new drill rigs and assigned us geos one each to manage, shit work if ever there was such. The second day driving to work on it, I could see a column of black smoke and eventually my drill rig, on fire. They fucked around for two weeks trying to repair it and retrieve their buried drill string, before deciding it was beyond hope, while I stayed in my cabin smoking cones and watching ski videos.

The drilling company said they werent going to replace the broken rig. It was at this time my boss announced that after 20 years, he was taking all his 6 months long service leave. As I had no rig, he gave me one assignment, and a pretty hurried and piss-poor one at that. They had all these old exploration leases that were expiring, patches of ground throughout the desert that had been pecked over before, and he wanted me to give them one final look before they expired. and then he left. For six months I had a free licence to roam around the desert, swagging out under the stars with roos and passing camels for company. I did a lot of acid in this period, so much so that I haven't felt like doing it again for 13 years. About two weeks before he was due to return, I realised I hadn't done any work to show for my 6 months. So I went to a barren outcrop, took about 1000 identical samples. then marked them on my maps as if Id been all over the shot, working. of course they all came back from the lab with zero gold, but that was expected anyway. The gods of slack smiled upon me in that job
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:44, 3 replies)
moon monkey's Joke Writer.

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:28, 2 replies)
Data input and company cars
Sorry, it's a long'un

So I was a data input monkey for a while at 8 an hour (just after A-levels and desperate for beer shrapnel) for which, like most here, I wrote a macro and spent the rest of the day hanging around the arsholiest jeb ends in the office, asking them if they wanted a coffee - most times, they'd be in the middle of trying to discern which was indeed their arse and which might be their elbow, or struggling to keep track of a large amount of figures, and my question would either infuriate them with my carefree free time attitude, or cause them to have a brain fart where they'd have to start over. And then, of course, it was a matter of pride not to accept my offer.

A while later, it was noticed that I had too much time on my hands, and I was given the job of couriering documents between the two offices, about a twenty minute drive to the next town. No way was I going to sign up to their appalling offer of mileage allowance, so instead I got given a Smart car (company car that nobody had chosen, I suppose), a credit card for "FUEL ONLY" and sent on my merry way.

Thing was, nobody actually notified the other office when I was sent out, and handling paperwork or waiting for the manager to come back so I could deliver "in person" was known to take up to an hour, more if he was on lunch. The number of times I used the little Smart to pick up stuff from the supermarket I lost count of. The fuel card could be used for chocolate and crisps from the non-itemising petrol station (sure, a longer drive away, but I wasn't paying for it!).

Best of all, though, was just before I got the sack. By timing things right on a Friday, I could keep the company car - insured, fuelled, and un-needed - for the whole weekend. I'd just carry a brown envelope out of whichever building I'd finished in at half past 4, and it was assumed I was heading back to the other office.

By this point, I'd been working there for over a year, and with the extra duties got 12.50 and hour. Add in the copious amounts of Lion Bars, Smarties and those crinkly crisps, and it was a pretty sweet deal. No pun intended.

Length? Was able to pull off taking the car for the weekend for about two months before someone noticed and I was shown the door.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:27, Reply)
I recently stopped my twice weekly stint as a Charity shop cashier.
The staff were the most friendly, laid back folk I've ever come across - in employment - but even so I wasn't getting paid for it so I don't suppose a bollocking would have come near if I was worse than I already was.

In my defence stock changed regularly, as it would given it came from almost daily donations, so therefore I had a perfectly adequate reason for why I had no idea what prices things were or even where they were (except for the usual - books, videos and DVDs and the like were either priced or had a standard one and were stocked in easy to reach places). Being at the helm though offered further dilemmas such as dealing with customers. There were a couple I really liked talking to, an elderly gent who would constantly deny that what he was buying was worth the price and so would drag his heels no matter how cheap.

Me(after totting it up): That's altogether 4 then.

Him: Are you sure?

Me: Yes, it's just over half your pension.

However this would be in good fun and he would rib me back about the youth of today having no knowledge whilst insisting it would have to be at least two pounds less. I would say inquire if he meant in old money.

There were rumours of more stressful types, though I never met any. Having said that there were plenty of particularly eyebrow raising customers.

One that comes to mind was a slightly short bald and skinny gentleman wearing a tattered camouflage jacket who once asked me to save a book for him whilst he scanned around the shop some more. The book he chose was on plants, so immediately my mind spun that he was probably an inhaler of some kind of weed. But then I shunned that idea as judgemental and to be honest rather unkind. Yet I couldn't shake off the idea he did seem a bit strange. Nevertheless after casually sauntering up to the counter he paid for his purchases in full so no harm was done. Then he asked me a question.

Him: You don't do DVDs by any chance do you?

Me: Yeah we do, 50p each.

Him: Yeah, do you have any adult DVDs?*

I couldn't look him in the eyes and as I stifled a laugh I quietly said no.
I never saw the man again.

In hindsight I suppose in a strange way I admire his confidence. Having said that I'm not a eunuch myself but given the stock options already visible I wouldn't have tried to get my fill from a place that was liable to have donations already left sticky and did.

Good job though. Well volunteer job.

*For those in expectation of such goods in charity shops, in the one I worked in those round the back receiving donations would either throw either raunchy, or stuff visually depicting rather ultra violent stuff away or hide it. A book on the Kama Sutra lay with dust gathering on the cover.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:24, 2 replies)
Shane Macgowan's personal stylist

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:12, 1 reply)
Overseas Affairs Correspondent for an American newspaper

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:09, Reply)
Cleaner at an OCD clinic

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:05, Reply)
I know it's not the links board, but:
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 17:03, Reply)
Diagnosing Autism
On B3ta.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:50, 5 replies)
£300 for 10 mins work!
about 7 years ago, a friend of mine asked me to go to one of his clients in Salisbury, as I lived nearby and I guess he has no one available.
All I was asked to do was add a printer to the network workgroup. For this he would pay me 30 an hour (as it would be basically 10 mins work if that, + travel time so probably 60 - 90)
When I got there I found they were all in a domain, so of course putting them in a workgroup would mess things up, even I knew this. SO I rang my mate up, he said..'Oh they don't really need to be on a domain, we just set it up that way, switch it to a workgroup it'll all be fine'
Which I did.
Cue the receptionist among others saying...Hey my email isn't working...Or internet access.
The printer worked though!
Sadly cutting them off the domain also caused the server based in london to fall over. So I sat there twiddling my thumbs for a further 9 hours while they fixed the server and I could put them back on a domain..and the printer still worked!
Good thing was they couldn't blame me I decided to do exactly as I was asked :p
Easiest 300 ever.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:48, 2 replies)
I'm thinking of applying for this job
Speciality Doctor in Homeopathic Medicine.

Two days a week saying "Hmm" and "Yes" to the worried well, then giving them magic water. 68k/year.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:39, 6 replies)
I bloody love bangin dem drums. So much so that I thought id do this during edinburgh festival.

Moneys great. Backs fucked mind you
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:30, 2 replies)
Those people who wander about watching you when you sit exams, yep, I got paid to do that.

With the big exams you get to wander about a big hall, watching everyone working and occasionally handing out extra paper, and as it gets closer to the end of an exam collecting in the papers of any escapee's intent on leaving before they are kicked out at time.

What most people won't realise happen are the 'one to one' exams - hidden away from the the big hall full of kids sitting english are the exams being run for pupils needing extra support - people with issues like dyslexia or autism that may need help in the form of a reader/scribe to help them with the writing, a prompter to make sure they don't daydream the entire time or extra time for whatever reason. Also there are the people kept apart for various behavioural problems that would cause an issue in a hall full of people genuinely trying to work, and best of all the teenage girls that cannot be trusted not to pop out a baby halfway through GCSE maths
Basically you end up in a room, often with only one pupil and a helper sitting the exam, with the job of watching them to prevent cheating and to stop them at the right time.
While it may be against the official rules, sneaking in a magazine to stop you falling asleep is not exactly frowned upon or prevented. I think I worked my way through about a years back issues of National Geographic last exam set...
The best room to have a one to one exam was in one of the learning support bases where they had an array of books including a nice selection of Roald Dahl for me to read.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:29, 2 replies)
Cron jobs
Every developer loves Cron jobs.
What's a cron job? Why, it's a list of instructions that are supposed to run on a webserver automatically, at regular intervals. Unless of course you have a crap webserver like the ones my company sprang for. Then you have to navigate to every so often to update the site's internal search index.

Q: Uni, why are you playing bejewelled?
A: Cron job's running.

Q: Uni, why are you checking facebook?
A: Cron job's running.

Q: Uni, Why can't I see this product on the site yet? You said you'd put it up yesterday.
A: I did it yesterday. It's just not showing yet because I haven't... the cron job?
A: You're learning!

(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:20, 4 replies)
Being a freelance writer
Mitchell and Webb got it spot on with this one...
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:19, 2 replies)
This could probably have been posted under the Professions I Hate QOTW
although I'm not entirely sure if it is a profession....

A while I back I was idly flicking through the TV channels during a weekday, hoping to find Cash in the Attic or some form of celebrity fishmongering reality show (which either may or should exist). I briefly settled on BBC 1 to see some kind of procession involving the Queen. As the Queen made her way through a crowded street waving, an easy job in itself, a voiceover from the studio commentated on the proceedings, another seemingly easy job. However, the shittiest/easiest line of employment was then introduced by said pundit....

"We now go over to the official BBC Queen's Jewellery Commentator."

"Thank you. As you can see, the Queen is today wearing the brooch presented to her by the King of Belgium after he fisted her on Easter Sunday of 1976*. This is its first outing since March 1982, and I think you'll all remember that it rained that day."

"What an intriguing analysis. Thank you Benjamin**."


That was this guys job. Thirty seconds talking about a broche once every couple of months. This raises a number of questions;

1) How does one go about getting this job?
2) Why would one want this job?
3) Why is my TV licence fee being used to keep this guy in a job?
4) Who actually wants to know about the Queen's bloody brooch!?

I have tried searching the internets to find out more about this position but to no avail.

* This event may not have happened. And Belgium may not have a king.
** Name may not be accurate. He sounded like a Benjamin.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:15, 4 replies)
Working in Ibiza
Back in 2002 I worked with a mate in a bar in Ibiza for the summer. One of us had to work from 11am-9pm and the other from 10pm-4am.

For the 11-9 shift, we had to make sure the bars were stocked for that evening, which took all of 15 minutes. We also had to make sure there was a(pirated)dvd on the big screen all day. That was it.

The boss didn't surface until 7pm each night so all day was spent drinking free booze and chatting to holidaymakers.

For the evening shift we were to stand in the busy street and ask people to come in for a drink.

Now most of the urchins doing similar jobs for other bars got paid by the number of people that came in to their establishment. We got paid regardless so we didn't annoy people or even ask people most of the time.

We also got into all the ridiculously over expensive nightclubs for free as we were 'workers'.

My boss said to me one night, "I want you to be more relaxed when talking to girls about coming in for a drink, so have a few drinks while you work so you're more chatty."

Then followed the best conversation I have ever been a part of.

"So, my job is to get pissed for free and chat to hot women?"
"You're also are going to give me a place to live above the bar for free?"
"And you're also going to pay me for doing this job?"

Glorious times
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:12, Reply)
The Nightclub DJ
We get paid a small fortune, to play music to pissed up clubbers and our friends all night, and drink free beer..

And we often make in 3 nights, more than most people make in a month.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:05, Reply)
The first proper job I had in IT
involved running a shit load of access queries, and checking they worked afterwards. This generally took all the morning, and a chunk of the afternoon. Being of the lazy persuasion, I wrote a massively complicated macro which took just as long but required minimal human input.

I spent my hungover mornings reading the paper, pop for lunch in the pub, and the while away the afternoons using the brand new napster, only stopping to answer the rare beeping reminder of the requirement for human input.

I was good at that job, but apparently my attitude was regarded as a demotivating influence on the rest of the office, so they moved me somewhere horrid (Croydon)
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:03, Reply)
Abu Hamza's
second glove
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 16:01, Reply)
Let me get my calculator....
My old company wanted to improve customer relations by employing someone to call up customers, asking them how they were getting on and if they needed further services. To this end they created a new job role and canvassed for applicants internally. Myself and a fellow colleague were the successful applicants. The company hadn't put a lot of thought into what they really wanted but one thing they did know was that they had a problem with not enough office space and since we only needed a mobile and a PC could we work from home? Fair enough. How many calls should we make we asked? Plucking a figure from the ether they said 3,000. It sounded impressive.

Walking out of the meeting I pulled my colleague aside and asked if they knew how many calls that was per working day. They didn't. It's just over 5 and a half.

Length? Did it for three and a half years before anyone did the arithmetic.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 15:50, Reply)
Maddie McCann's babysitter.
*summons the indignant-on-other-people's-behalfs-rightousness crew*
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 15:50, 8 replies)
Gail Porters
Hair Brush
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 15:47, 5 replies)
NTL customer complaints dept
Thinking back this job still baffles me.
I got a call from an agency one day asking if I could start a job just 2 hours later at 2pm. So from my student daytime slumber I managed to present myself at the NTL (cable TV & phone) office in Watford.
I was sat at a desk and told to open the post that came into the office and sort it into categories; payment, tv complaint, phone complaint, account change etc. I was told next morning I should arrive by 7:30am.

So that is what I did. 7:30am on the dot I arrived at my desk and sat there. My arrival was acknowledged by someone of sufficient authority to corroborate my hours, however there was nobody to actually give me any work. More to the point the post didn't arrive until 8:15am. When it did I had it all sorted in about 15 minutes and again had nothing to do until second post (remember that???) arrived about 11:30am.

There was a computer on my desk, and despite most likely being the most qualified person in that office to use one (I've now worked in IT for 12 years) I was not allowed to use the computer, not even switch it on. SO I'd sit at that desk watching other people around me struggle to use their PC's and holding back the urge to help (interfere). Every day there literally wasn't more than 30 mins work for me to do. After a month I had to pack it in as it was numbingly dull, thing is if I could have read a book or done something it would have been ok, but I had to sit there all day ready to work but with no work.
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 15:20, Reply)
Pulling lobsters out of Jayne Mansfields bum.
Someone had to mention it.....
(, Thu 9 Sep 2010, 15:19, 1 reply)

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